No, I didn't die. But I probably could have.

Thanksgiving morning I mixed up the usual batch of black beans, corn, chili, and Ro-Tel, because I was hungry and knew I needed to eat something wholesome and filling before we got to the kids' for Thanksgiving dinner.

Dinner was great. And nobody went home crying, always a plus.

About two hours after we were home, my gut started screaming. I woke out of a sound sleep with that uh-oh feeling, made it to the loo just in time, and as I sat there was hit with a cold wave down my spine, with just enough time to lift up my T-shirt to catch the debris. I would much rather clean up barf than diarrhea. It was an easy decision to make, although strictly speaking it was more instinct than decision.

For the next twelve hours or so I alternated between catnaps and the loo. I looked at my hands at one point, and to my astonishment they were not dehydrated. And both ankles were nearly slim. For years I've used the phrase "throwing up all the way up from my toes" but this was the first time it was literal as well as metaphorical. I remember wondering, where is this pee coming from, because I haven't done more than rinse my mouth out in hours?

Middlest wasn't sick. Fourthborn, trying to sleep out in the living room, wasn't sick. So it had to be my jollop. Sure enough, when I was well enough to step away from the loo for more than fifteen minutes, I wandered out to the kitchen and inspected the cans of Ro-Tel. Most of them appeared to be fine, but two or three of them had lids that were almost imperceptibly rounded.

It's a good thing that Ro-Tel is acidic, because it probably saved me from botulism.

I also killed the garbage disposal. Apparently it doesn't like Ro-Tel any more than my body did. I called the plumber on Saturday afternoon and made an appointment for Monday morning after Middlest's doctor appointment. Several hundred dollars later, we have a gloriously beautiful new disposal and a bit of updated plumbing.

When I got to work on Monday, I discovered that I'd forgotten to ask for the time off, and nobody knew where I was. And I had a trial notebook for TheKid which didn't get finished until an hour and a half after my normal quitting time. There will be a discussion with the office manager once she returns to the office; she's been out at least two days with a killer migraine.

Tuesday I was off (and everybody knew it) for my quarterly diabetes blood work. My doctor was pleased that I'd lost some weight since last time, and we both laughed because I probably lost it the hard way over Thanksgiving weekend.

I am typing this from Beloved's laptop, which I am learning to use because my big beautiful computer has a tummyache of its own. I need to get in touch with 2BDH and see if he can figure out what's wrong with it. The fan is starting to make a racket, and the CPU is no longer talking to the monitors. Middlest has rigged my backup memory and a mouse to the laptop, and I'm slowly learning to navigate. Thankfully this thing has a full-size keyboard.

OK, I'm done for now. I really need to get to bed before midnight, and I don't remember what I ate for dinner, but something, and I need to take my meds, and I want to play at least one game on the AARP website now that Microsoft has updated on this critter and Firefox isn't crashing every time I look longingly at Mahjonng.

Oh, and it's my Saturday to help clean the chapel, but this time I have a bright pink sticky note on my bathroom mirror to remind me.